A Dragon and a Pygmy Puff
by purplecloak9
Summary: The morning after Harry's bachelor party. He wakes up to a couple of interesting surprises. What's on Ron's bum? Now the girls' night is up too. HP/GW RW/HG
1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter groaned, the morning sunlight prodding him obnoxiously in the face. He tried to life his forearm to shield his eyes, to no avail. Every part of his body felt like lead. His headache was splitting and he felt it acutely. Every beating of his heart seemed to provoke a new assault on his senses. He felt like he was dying; not even killing Voldemort had hurt so much.

A strangled cry came from the bed next to his. Ron muttered incoherently under his breath. Harry's head throbbed.

"Ron, shut the hell up." Those brief words made Harry feel, if possible, worse. Now he was aware of the stale taste in his mouth. He wondered if a spider had crawled in there and died during the night. Or perhaps it had been a mouse.

"What did we do last night?"

Harry's head spun. He vaguely remembered something about a party. Yes! That was it; it had been his bachelor party. Ron had organized the entire event, and it apparently had ended up with him passed out at the Burrow in Ron's old attic room.

"It was Stag Night, remember?"

"Bloody hell. I hope neither one of us gets married again. I feel like Snape's greasy ass."

Harry chuckled, and then winced as the movement sent another pang of agony through his body. "I wonder what time it is."

"I hope it's either early enough that Hermione isn't awake yet, or late enough that they've forgotten about us. I'll never hear the end of this."

Harry silently agreed. He loved Hermione, he really did, but he thanked his lucky stars every day that he was marrying Ginny. Hermione had pouted about the stag night, saying it was a haven for drunkenness and misbehavior. Ginny, on the other hand, had given Harry a lingering kiss and said it was a pity she couldn't go drinking with him.

Merlin he loved her.

"Morning boys," said a voice from the door. It wasn't Hermione's shrill voice (she took sadistic pleasure in using a loud voice whenever Harry and Ron were inebriated) or Mrs. Weasley's stiff, disapproving one. The voice was like honey to his ears, just the right volume, and made his head feel just a little bit better. It was his fiancée.

"Ginny?" he croaked, unable to lift his head just yet. His eyes opened, though, and he focused on the ceiling.

She moved to his bed, her face inches from his. "Yuck," she said, wrinkling her freckled nose. "Your breath smells horrible."

He resisted the urge to laugh. "Tell me you brought hangover potion."

She laughed softly. "I sure did," she replied, holding the vial of bright green liquid in his line of sight.

He wordlessly opened his mouth, sighing in relief when the minty potion hit his fuzzy feeling tongue.

"Thanks," he groaned. "I'll love your forever."

She brushed his hair from his forehead. "I love you, too. How was last night?"

"I think there was a lot of firewhiskey. And I mean a lot."

"Dancers?" She couldn't hide the amusement in her voice.

"Yeah, Ron took us to some club."

"Did you get lucky?"

"Very," he whispered, pulling her down to lie beside him, her head settling into the crook of his neck. The potion had finally banished his headache, and Ginny's own personal recipe did wonders for his monster breath.

"Mmm? Not thinking of running out on me, are you, Potter?" She pushed her long, auburn hair over her shoulder, gently nibbling at his collarbone.

"Definitely not. The girls at the club were most certainly not the marrying kind."

"I can imagine. So you had fun?"

He thought about it. "Not really. I missed you."

"Yeah right."

"Hey!" he protested. "I really missed."

"Well, when we're married you won't ever have to be away from me. Not even to go have drinks with your mates."

"Take me prisoner," he challenged. By this time the illness had completely vanished and he was feeling very aware of the gorgeous woman lying in his bed. He took her head in his hand and kissed her gently. Her reaction was warm and eager; she slipped her tongue in between his lips, sending shudders through his body. His lips tingled.

"Well, don't let me bother you two," Ron said from the other side of the room. Harry, in his relief, had quite forgotten his friend's predicament.

He looked at Ginny. "Did you bring enough for Ron?"

"I may have," she said, winking. "But maybe I should just call 'Mione. That way she can care for her prince."

"Ginny, please. I'll be your slave forever. Just don't call Hermione until I'm better."

"Fine, fine," Ginny grumbled, reluctantly leaving Harry's side to hand an incapacitated Ron his potion. He grimaced and muttered about the taste.

"Did _he_ get peppermint?" Ron swung his legs over the mattress. His red hair was shaggy and mussed; his skin pale save the two heavy black bags under his eyes.

"Yes, he did. I used the last in my kit for his batch," she grinned at Harry wickedly. "And that'll teach you to keep my boyfriend out all night." She lowered her voice just for Harry. "I hate the flat without you." He rose for another kiss. They had been living together for about a year, in a two bedroom flat in downtown London.

Ron said something very ugly and stumbled out of the door and into the bathroom down the hall.

"I'm sorry you missed me last night," said Harry. "I don't remember why we came here. I think we were going to raid your mum's pantry."

"It's okay. Hermione, Alicia, Angelina and I stayed up late, talking."

"Oh? About what?" He raised an eyebrow suggestively.

"This," she whispered, kissing him soundly. She rolled them over so that he was on top, resting comfortably between her legs. Their kisses became frantic and sloppily open-mouthed, until finally Harry tugged her shirt over her head. He kissed all the way down her neck to the tops of her breasts, only to be interrupted by the removal of his own shirt. He paused in his kissing at a massive itch on his chest, pulling away when he heard Ginny gasp.

"Harry! What the hell did you do?" Her hands were over her mouth and she was staring mercilessly at his chest.

He didn't have his glasses on so he couldn't properly see. He groped around on the nightstand for them, pushing the wire frames on to his face.

He looked down.

On his chest, roaring in frozen ferocity, was a Hungarian Horntail. It was plain brown and black in colour, but the flames erupting from its mouth were vibrant oranges and reds. The stream of fire flowed from the dragon's mouth, just over his heart, and curled up his shoulder and down his arm, stopping just at the bend of his arm.

He'd gotten a tattoo. He'd gotten a tattoo while he was drunk. He was going to kill Ron.

"Wow," Ginny said.

He eyed her warily. "Are you going to kill me?"

Her expression was bemused. "Why would I do that? I love it. Very macho." She bent down and gave him a hard kiss. "I think it's kind of sexy."

His mouth was open to reply when the door of the room flew open. Ron came in, looking wild, his pants undone and around his ankles, his boxers showing. His eyes were wide as he turned, showing Harry and Ginny his naked bum. On the left cheek was a tattoo of a pink Pygmy puff.

Harry and Ginny burst into laughter.

"THIS IS NOT FUNNY!"

"Ron, would you like to explain this?" All of them looked to the doorway, finding Hermione in the doorway, her lips pursed. Harry was showing off his Horntail, Ginny was shirtless and in her bra, and Ron was more than halfway naked, his bum exposed to show off a bruised butt cheek with a fluffy animal tattooed on it.

"Uhh…It was stag night," Harry offered feebly.


	2. Chapter 2

Ginny Weasley was lying in bed, missing her boyfriend. Turning over in the sheets, she was cursing herself for being so accommodating about the bloody Stag night, when she knew very well every female witch in all of England – perhaps the whole world – was looking at Harry Potter as a meal ticket, and a very attractive one at that.

She grimaced, wondering if some half-dressed scarlet woman was rubbing against Harry to the beat of some song. Harry would be moving awkwardly, just the way he did when Ginny danced with him. She hoped, perhaps a bit stupidly, that Ron and Dean and Seamus would at least take care of him; firewhiskey wasn't very nice to Harry.

A crash in the night broke Ginny from her thoughts. She threw the covers from her body, revealing her without-a-Harry pajamas of a tank and boxers. Ginny, being the tomboy she was her whole life, hated to admit she only wore comfortable, ugly things when Harry wasn't in bed with her.

She picked up her wand from the nightstand and muttered, "Lumos."

Walking into the large living and kitchen area, her feet frozen from the chilled hardwood floor, Ginny was confronted by an insane amount of giggling. Her wand flicked to the overhead fixture and light flooded the room.

"Ginny! See Hermione? I told you she'd be awake," screamed a red-faced Alicia. George's wife flung herself at the much smaller woman, nearly throwing her to the floor, if not for the weight training Ginny had been going through with the Harpies.

"What the hell is this?" Ginny asked Hermione. The bushy haired witch stumbled across the floor to the fridge. She opened the door and opened one of Harry's muggle beers.

"We came from a club downtown," Hermione answered. She tapped the bottle with her wand and sighed in contentment, putting it to her lips. "I wish Ron would get one for our flat."

"A refidgermarator?" Angelina asked, eyeing the device skeptically. "Haven't you and Harry heard of preservation charms?" The black girl, Fred's wife, was the least drunk of any of them. Ginny remembered her Bachelorette party, being horribly jealous that Angie could drink any of the other women under the table with the least effects.

Ginny shrugged. "He likes Muggle things. He grew up around them. Even knows how to work a stove."

Alicia giggled, making Ginny and Hermione wince simultaneously. "I've heard that's not all he likes."

"Shut up, Alicia. You haven't heard shit," Angie said. The Scottish beauty didn't tolerate bullshit and abhorred gossip.

"What'd you hear?" Ginny wasn't new to the idea of a woman claiming she knew Harry better than she actually did. There had been one scary time when she had almost believed a girl from Harry's auror training class – who had accused Harry of fathering her child. The child had been black haired, but when Harry assured her he had never cheated on her, she believed him. She'd felt bad for even thinking about it, but she and Harry had eventually made up. Two months later they were engaged.

"A certain ex-Ravenclaw seeker told me the scoop about Harry in the sack," slobbered Alicia. She was lying on the floor, her mouth open slightly, the look in her eyes glassy and unfocused. Ginny was almost positive she wouldn't be able to remember anything in the morning.

"Oh yeah? What'd she find out?" This was from Hermione, who had a curious look on her face. She shrugged when Ginny shot her a look, and said, "I've always wondered."

Angie laughed. "I think every girl in England's had that fantasy."

Ginny looked at her, surprised. "Even you?"

The woman laughed, plopping down on the green couch. "Sure. Back in fifth year I accidentally caught Harry in the locker room showers…" She trailed off.

"No way!" Hermione cheered. "And? How was it?"

Angie didn't spare a glance in Ginny's direction. "Hot. Even at fifteen he had an amazing body."

"I wonder how…how our guys…compare," Hermione said, giggling.

Angie sat back, pretending to consider. "Alicia and I have already compared notes, you know, just to if the twins are…congruent. And they are."

Ginny, tiring already of the conversation, went to the fridge and picked up a beer. Taking a swig, she asked, "How's Ron in that department?" Yeah, he was her brother, but she could, and often did, bury that detail during girl talk.

Hermione blushed. "He's about as much as I can handle."

All four girls burst into laughter.

"And Harry?"

Ginny sighed, smiled, and then shrugged. "Okay, I guess." She was deliberately bating them, and they knew it.

"Cho told me it was bloody fantastic. She said he was the best lay she's ever had – before and after." Alicia sat up, crossing her legs. "'Mione could you get me a drink?"

Hermione shrugged, going to the fridge. "What else did Cho say?" When she turned around, she was grinning.

"She said he's aggressive, but sweet at the same time. 'E's got nice stomach muscles and he's a fantastic kisser."

Ginny could vouch for that. She hadn't been (you know, _been_) with anyone but Harry, but she'd kissed all of her many ex-boyfriends. Harry, in that department, was above par, and she never wanted to kiss anyone else, ever. It didn't really bother her that he'd had a fling with Cho after the final battle. She had asked Harry for some time apart, to think, and to evaluate what a future with him might entail. She'd dated Dean again, for a while, during that time, and was happy to put it behind both of them.

"I can attest to that."

"Have you two," Hermione gestured to Alicia and Angie. "Ever thought about….Bill?"

"Uhh…" Angie looked down at her shoes.

"NO YOU DIDN'T!"

Angie looked around guiltily, like she expected her husband to catch her in the act. "I…I wasn't with Fred yet. But I was looking into a summer job, right after I left Hogwarts. We went out to dinner…and stuff happened."

"I am so jealous," screeched Hermione, completely wasted and honest. "I've always had a thing for Bill."

"Really? I thought you fancied Percy," teased Ginny.

"Oh sod off, Gin, your brothers are all sexy as bloody hell," was her reply. "How was it?"

"Excellent," declared Angie. "But right after that he became really serious about Fleur and I met up with Fred after the twins gave me the job working at WWW."

"Bill Weasley," whispered Hermione, stunned. "You have all the luck."

"Surely you aren't thinking of messing around on my brother?"

"Of course not. I love Ron. But Bill's always been that…fantasy. Like the crush you get on professors? Not realistic, but really, really sexy."

Ginny smiled, loving the way Hermione talked when she was hammered. She was always fun.

"I slept with Professor Evans," confessed Alicia abruptly.

"What?!" Professor Derek Evans had been the Defense teacher during everyone's last year at Hogwarts. He was gorgeous and the true love of many girls at Hogwarts.

"How could you? You weren't even there that year? You graduated in my fifth year!" Ginny could remember blushing every time Evans looked her way.

Alicia shrugged. "Dumbledore's death affected my NEWTs and I was having a hard time finding a job. McGonagall said she would let me retake them, after some extensive tutoring."

"Extensive, I'll say," muttered Hermione.

Alicia gave a sly smile. "I passed Defense with flying colours. Though I did enjoy a detention now and then."

"Alicia!"

They settled down a bit, all four of them finding places on the couch.

"I'm worried about the boys. Ron's liable to return home with something pierced or a pretend Death Eater slung over his shoulder. Git always hallucinates when he's drunk," Hermione said fondly.

"I'm not worried," lied Ginny bravely. The other women exchanged knowing looks.

"I'm not!" she protested. "Harry will be just fine by himself."

"Sure, Gin. Whatever you say," Angie said.

"So you won't be concerned when Harry doesn't come home tonight?" asked Alicia.

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked suspiciously. "Why wouldn't Harry come home tonight?"

"Ah, the pre-marital naïveté," sighed Angie. "I found Fred face down in a toilet the morning after his Stag night. And he's the good twin."

"I found George in our bed with a Goblin. You don't even know what explanation he gave me."

"Ron ended up in the fireplace at our house. Apparently he didn't realize flooing while intoxicated is a bad idea. There was vomit everywhere," Hermione shivered at the memory.

"I guess I should make the hangover potion tonight."

"Yes, well," Hermione said gruffly. "You'd better hope you find Ron before I do or he'll be healing the muggle way. Rose needs to see the effects of alcohol at an early age. I don't want her growing up to be a menace like her father."

"Oh and you're such a good example? You're as drunk as I am," Alicia said, going over to the stereo and putting on the Weird Sisters. She was surprisingly adept at working radios, something no one could explain. If you gave her a toaster it'd be thirty seconds until it was turned over and on fire.

"That's beside the point. I'm going to the loo," Hermione scowled at the other three, apparently not taking too kindly to having her inebriation pointed out.

"She's a bad girl trying to get out," said Angie sagely. "You know, I've often wondered – " She was cut off by a squeak from the bathroom.

"WHERE THE HELL ARE MY KNICKERS?"

"Oh, no," said Alicia. "I suppose fifty pounds isn't the only thing 'Mione left at the strip club."


End file.
